


A Fine Feast

by Hannigrammatic



Series: Screw it! [6]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hannibal is all too happy to provide a punishment, M/M, Overstimulation, Punishment, Rimming, Teasing, Will has been very naughty indeed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 00:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5269334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannigrammatic/pseuds/Hannigrammatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i><b>Meet me in the dining room when you get home</b>, the text reads.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Will squints down at it nervously, wracking his brain with a slight panic as he tries to remember what he’s done recently that could have pissed his husband off. </i>
</p><p>Will is punished and Hannibal is absolutely merciless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fine Feast

**Author's Note:**

> SMUT, SMUT, AND MORE SMUT. CONSIDER YASELF SMUTT'D.
> 
> NOTE: Revised this finally, hot damn there were a fuckton of errors LOL
> 
> All mistakes are mine~

**Meet me in the dining room when you get home** , the text reads.

Will squints down at it nervously, wracking his brain with a slight panic as he tries to remember what he’s done recently that could have pissed his husband off. 

**Ok** , he texts back quickly.

The drive home is full of tension, and it curls in his belly and presses jittery fingers up into his throat as he inhales anxiously. He’d been out to pick up some supplies for Benji, their newest acquisition, a scruffy blond Cairn terrier. Altogether they own four dogs now, but the beachside villa has a large yard with a privacy fence, and the home itself is massive, especially in comparison to Will’s tiny former home in Wolf Trap, Virginia. He saunters through the front entrance, the massive sliding glass doors opened already to let the breeze push through the building. The house is a European split-level affair with a fancily terraced roof and the outside made of white stone. Inside the walls are paneled with intricate patterns in the front room, which is sizeable and open, and a large antique piano is tucked into the corner at one side with various expensive rugs on the hardwood floor. Will takes a right through a massive ivory archway, one of the entrances that leads into their gleaming stainless steel kitchen.

“Hannibal?” Will calls out uncertainly as he sets his bag of supplies on a spotless counter. 

“In here,” his husband answers, and his accented voice rumbles in such a way that Will bites his lip hard.

He rakes a hand through his curly hair and attempts to pat it down afterwards. As he walks into the dimly lit dining room he is loosening the collar of his button-up shirt, but he comes to a halt in the entrance. The room is spacious and the walls are made of stone bricks. The massive mahogany dining table seats ten people, four matching chairs on either side and two larger chairs at each end. The centerpiece is a woven cornucopia with fake fruit and flowers pouring out of it, and beneath it a soft velvet strip of cloth that is woven into a pattern resembling a rose. His husband sits at one end, chair pulled back enough that he can cross one knee over the other, and he’s taken off his suit coat, which lay folded on the table before him. He is wearing a dark purple waistcoat with gleaming golden buttons, matching pants, the both of them pinstriped subtly, and beneath the coat he has on a white dress shirt. The tie around his neck is undone but not removed, dangling ominously.

“Hi,” Will greets with a nervous smile.

“You got my text,” the man says, and it isn’t a question.

Will looks at Hannibal as one pale eyebrow raises expectantly, and he nods in confirmation. The chandelier hanging above the dining table resembles one that would normally hold candles, the ends of which are fashioned into brass lengths instead with little lights at the end that imitated fire. Will had thought it incredibly tacky when Hannibal had first chosen it, and he remembers with a twinge the punishment that resulted in; he couldn’t walk for a week, he recalls. A blush rises over Will’s cheeks as he scratches along his stubbled jawline anxiously.

“Then you know what to do,” Hannibal purrs. “Do not speak again unless I tell you to. Now get over here, my love.”

Pupils dilating and nostrils flaring, Will obeys immediately. He finds he cannot think about much else now other than what this evening has in store for him -though he still wonders in the back of his mind what he’d done in the first place to warrant this particular punishment-, but it becomes less important when he strides around the table and comes to a stop at his husband’s side, looking straight ahead and attempting to keep his breathing steady. He can feel the other man’s gaze raking over his body as if it is a physical weight, like soft fingers flitting beneath his clothes and caressing his warm flesh. Hannibal’s actual fingers do light upon him just then, looping in his belt and tugging him closer with a sudden jerk. Will stumbles just a bit and manages to right himself with his legs pressing into the arm of the high-backed chair his husband sits in.

“Remove your belt and hand it to me,” the accented tone is deep and bordering on hoarse.

Will closes his eyes as his cheeks grow warmer, but he obeys again. His hands are trembling as he unclasps the buckle, brushing his knuckles along Hannibal’s fingertips as the other draws his own hand away. Chancing a glance down, Will finds his husband leaning casually with his cheek set into the palm of his other hand as he tilts his head to take Will in. Those eyes… Will gulps audibly and looks away quickly while he tugs out his belt and hands it obediently to Hannibal, who silently pushes the chair back and stands. 

“You’ve been a very bad boy, Will,” he whispers, and Will’s chin is grasped firmly and his face tugged back in Hannibal’s direction. “Ah, ah, don’t speak.”

Mouth clicking shut, Will swallows his instinctive complaint and instead peers into Hannibal’s brown eyes, cheeks warm under his husband’s unrelenting grip. He feels his ears begin to ring as he lets himself slip into his husband’s state of mind briefly, but with a gasp at the intensity of just what the older man intended to do tonight, Will snaps back into himself and tries to turn his head away. Pure lust fills his body and his cock grows heavy when his blood rushes downwards promptly. And Hannibal, he merely growls and tightens his grasp on his husband’s face, not allowing him to look away.

“Try that again and you’ll regret it,” he warns.

Will nods imperceptibly and winces only a bit at the increasing pressure on his face, well-used to those long fingers pressing bruises into him, but he loves it. Hannibal’s ability to completely and utterly control him is such a turn on Will imagines he’d walk off a cliff (again) if only his husband told him to. Presently, however, Hannibal merely stares him down a few more seconds before pushing his face away with enough force to jar him, and he follows the motion by gripping the back of Will’s shirt to move him bodily towards the dinning room table. 

“Bend over the table,” he commands even as he smoothes his fingers through Will’s hair to grab the soft curls and then shove him none too gently upon the table. 

Bending obediently, Will presses his cheek to the cool surface and crosses his arms behind his back, having been in this position in this exact spot many times, biting his lip as his naked flesh was smacked into stinging redness. However Hannibal seems to have a different idea in mind this night, and Will yelps as strong hands grip his legs and lift him until his entire body is on the table. Long fingers caress the backs of this thighs as Will brings his own hands to lay on the wood on either side of his head. Seconds later, Hannibal grabs the waistband of his pants and boxers and tugs them both down Will’s legs without preamble, pulling them over his shoes, both of which he slips off and tosses onto the floor with the rest of the smaller man’s garments.

“Wait here,” Hannibal’s voice is perfectly calm now, conversational, as if they are getting ready for a dinner date or a social gathering. “Do not say a word and do not move and inch.”

The unspoken ‘or else’ makes Will’s cock twitch against the table, where it is flattened uncomfortably beneath him as he holds his legs in the air bent at the knees behind him. He catches sight of Hannibal’s back as he walks around the table into the kitchen, and he eyes his husband’s muscular body and bites his lip at the sight of Hannibal’s taut asscheeks clothed in close-fitting suit pants. Broad shoulders are held proudly as he disappears through the archway; moments later he returns holding a single apple in one hand and a bottle of olive oil in the other. Will blinks as he tries to comprehend just what his husband intends to do.

“No,” Hannibal says as Will opens his mouth again. “Will. Don’t make me tell you again.”

Whining softly, Will returns his face to the cold surface, rubbing his cheek into the table plaintively as he holds his legs in the air, both limbs shaking a bit at the prolonged position. He remains silent as the other man circles the table again and comes to a stop behind him, setting both the apple and the bottle softly down betwixt Will’s thighs. Long fingers stroke across the small of his back, and then the leather of Will’s belt chases the sensation, making the younger man shake involuntarily at the different sensations. 

“Open your mouth wide, Will,” Hannibal finally says, dropping the belt between Will’s shoulder blades to rest there and helping him raise his upper body. 

Will uses his own arms to support himself, crossing them before him on the table as he opens his mouth wide, eyes closing as he quivers in anticipation, and then Hannibal is pressing the apple passed his lips, nudging him into opening his jaws even wider. One hand returns to his hair, and he massages along Will’s scalp, pressing down lightly until the smaller man takes the clue and sinks his teeth into the sweet fruit. A gag of a different kind, the younger man realizes, having fully expected his mouth to be filled this evening, though one would figure it to have been with the tie or his husband’s thick, pulsing cock. 

“Your arms,” Hannibal’s voice whispers at his ear, stirring a few curls there. “Behind your back. Good boy.”

Preening under the praise, Will only slightly complains when his wrists are bound behind his back tightly with his own belt. And then, with a shift of fabric, Hannibal slips his tie from around his neck and cinches it around Will’s ankles, pulling it firmly and then weaving the ends through the belt until ankles and arms are trapped together. A soft breeze blows in from the kitchen from windows thrown wide, and Will Graham feels his heart racing as he realizes just what he must look like now. Trussed up like a pig, apple and all. His cock is leaking precome by now as his body pulls taut with sexual tension.

“Hmmn. I wish you could see yourself, Will,” long fingers stroke down his sides until both of Hannibal’s hands come to rest on his hips, nails digging in just enough to make his husband shudder at the ghost of pain. “You look delicious. So much so I could just eat you up.”

Moaning around his mouthful, Will tests the bonds holding him in place slightly, happy to feel them offering no give. He lays upon the dining table like a meal ready for his husband to enjoy, arranged beautifully just as any dish prepared by the masterful cook. And now Will even has a placemat -Hannibal unfolds his jacket and tucks it up under Will’s body until his abdomen rests on the soft fibers. A louder moan sounds around the apple when the other man purposely cups a large hand over his cock, fisting it briefly until Will is a squirming mess.

“Be careful you don’t drop that apple,” the man says with a grin. “Unless you’d like another one somewhere I imagine would be quite unwelcoming.”

And a thick fingertip strokes between spread asscheeks to indicate just where Hannibal is talking about. Will’s entire body feels like it is engulfed in flames as he quivers, cock growing all the more harder at the man’s words despite the threat behind them. He is safe in the knowledge that his husband won’t actually go beyond his limits, but the thought alone can still move him into excitement because of the tone the words are spoken in, all silken smooth purrs and growls. Teeth sinking into the flesh of the apple, the younger man obeys. He stops the motion of his jaws lest he drop the fruit, sticky juices running down his chin, and doesn’t waver even as the pad of Hannibal’s thumb catches on the rim of his asshole before stroking the furled ring of muscle firmly.

“Good boy,” comes the praise again. “Now hold still while I taste you.”

Will’s thighs tense as he feels strong hands stroke over them until both of Hannibal’s thumbs nudge inwards to spread his cheeks obscenely wide, holding him open for the mouth that descends on him like a starved animal. It is a chore not to close his teeth in a hiss as a thick tongue laves along his hole, swirling around it before pushing inside of him without hesitating, plunging so deep into him that Will’s breath gusts out of his nose and he whines around his tasty gag. His nails dig crescents into his palms as he fights to hold onto any semblance of control.

But Hannibal is merciless.

He spreads his husband wider even still, chin coming to rest against his sensitive skin as he seeks to quest even deeper into the body beneath him, spittle gathering around his mouth much as it is around Will’s as he tries his hardest not to bite down and through the core of the fruit. Sweat dampens his brow and he squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head before letting it drop back onto the table with curls falling into watering eyes. He can’t thrust into or away from his husband’s ministrations, held securely place as ever. Finally Hannibal pulls back just enough to breathe out a puff of air into the younger man’s twitching hole, and Will thinks he can finally fill his lungs properly, hopes the man has had his full of the feast in front of him -for a moment at least. But as usual he is wrong, and Hannibal growls before returning his lips to the clenching hole, sealing them around the rim and sucking wetly, exerting more pressure on the body below as Will shudders violently and involuntarily.

Will can’t help his teeth sinking a bit further into the apple, nearly crushing through it but managing to stop himself at the last second, nostrils flaring as he inhales and exhales through them brusquely. Hannibal’s lips continue pressing firmly to his most sensitive spot, sucking and swirling his tongue around the furled skin teasingly now, before he pulls away with a wet pop, finally finished with this particular action and proud of his husband for handling it so well. He stands and smoothes the front of his waistcoat primly, pulling the chair closer and sitting on it to take his place at the head of the table and face the meal presented to him only half devoured.

“You’ve done well, my pup,” Hannibal speaks. “Keep it up and you’ll gain a reward of your choosing.”

A soft moan comes from around the apple in answer, Will’s entire body shaking and sweating just slightly with the effort of not only fighting his instincts, but also with holding his arms and legs in place enough so that they don’t become painful within their bindings. He hears his husband unstopper the olive oil before jolting in surprise as the lukewarm and slightly viscous liquid dribbles liberally between his asscheeks, some of it soaking into his hole and tingling pleasantly. Not a very effective replacement for lube, Will thinks distantly, but he knows better than to question the other man even inwardly, knowing everything tonight has been planned beforehand. Hannibal upends the bottle just then, giving the nozzle of the bottle a shake and pouring enough onto Will’s backside that his hole fills up on the outside. Most of it drips down his crack and along his cheeks, and his husband sets the oil aside to press one index finger into him to usher more within. 

“Careful,” dulcet tones warn him, Hannibal’s voice strained with arousal.

Will growls around the flimsy gag, wanting to disobey so badly and spit it out to pant and moan loudly, call Hannibal’s name and curse endlessly. But he heeds the warning even as that finger presses passed the rim of his hole. And he continues to with less restraint when it is two, and barely manages to not bite down hard enough to hurt his jaw when three long and thick fingers stretch him wide, scissoring inside of him languidly. Already filled, Will whines his loudest yet when a fourth, Hannibal’s pinky, nudges in alongside the others. More oil is dribbled between his asscheeks and scooped up inside of him, lubricating the fingers that continue to open him, and the easy thrusts remain gentle but unforgiving as they graze his prostate intently.

“Careful,” Hannibal repeats, setting the oil aside once more and running his free hand along his husband’s flank -then suddenly, with a shift that Will feels in the air, he brings it down in a hard slap on one asscheek.

And Will is undone. His teeth snap harshly and the apple splits with a small spatter of juice. The largest chunk of the fruit falls in front of him while the rest remains in his mouth, and he spits it out a second later to pull in great gusts of air, gasping and sobbing at his failure. The fingers pull out of him immediately.

“Will,” the other man says calmly. “What have you done?”

“I’m sorry,” Will gasps out. “Hannibal, ple-”

“ _Silence_ ” Hannibal growls.

Will cuts himself off with another sob and presses his cheek more firmly onto the table. There is silence after that indeed, stretching for what feels like an eternity to Will’s overstimulated being. Hannibal doesn’t move the entire time, can barely be heard to breathe over the rush of blood in Will’s ears as his heart crawls into this throat. Desperate and aroused, with his cock still sandwiched under him uncomfortably, Will curls his body in an attempt at friction. He knows he is pushing it again but he wants to come more than anything, poked and prodded and teased for too long as far as he is concerned. Furthermore, Will still hasn’t figured out what this night’s punishment is even for, and he grows petulant in his frustration.

“Will.”

One word. Spoken in another growl, voice deeper and gruffer than it has been so far, Hannibal’s hands return to him, filling his palms with the supple flesh of pale asscheeks again to squeeze and knead. Spreading him and letting go to push the pliant globes together, he repeats Will’s name with a breathy exhalation, Hannibal’s own arousal apparent in the sensual way he speaks and in the hot energy exuding from his very form. Will bites his lip hard enough to hurt as he fights to remain silent.

“You naughty, naughty boy,” Hannibal grumbles deeply. “Look at what you have done.”

And he slips two fingers back into Will’s stretched hole, curling them harshly and nudging his husband’s prostate. His other hand holds Will in place to ride out the younger man’s jerking body as pleasure slams back into him, assaulting all of his senses just as the slap upon his asscheek had earlier. Will mewls and squirms when Hannibal doesn’t let up for a second, harsh thrusts of his finger continuously pressing the pads of his fingers against the little nub inside of him that sets his entire being alight. Tears dampen Will’s eyelashes as he lets go and just moans and whines, whispering Hannibal’s name pleadingly and trying to meet the thrusts that open him up again. Helpless and held in place, still trussed up and at his husband’s mercy entirely, Will Graham is beside himself just then -and whatever he has done to deserve this punishment he is unsure if he wants to repeat, or _definitely _repeat again.__

__“Please,” he gasps out. “Hannibal, please.”_ _

__His husband withdraws his fingers and murmurs softly as he works to untie the bindings. Ankles unbound first, Will stretches his legs out as circulation begins to return, and he moans as the belt is undone next to release his arms. Without missing a beat, Hannibal’s lifts him from the table as if he weighs nothing and brings his smaller lover back to his feet, steadying him when he shakes like a newborn foal. Large hands stroke down his chest and stomach gently to chase the shivers that wrack Will’s body, and he buries his nose into dark curls to nuzzle behind an ear turned red with a full-body flush. Will lets out a plaintive sound that turns into a whine when Hannibal takes a seat and hauls him into his lap, holding him tightly. He can feel the other’s arousal snug against his ass, and he leans back into the silk fabric of Hannibal’s waistcoat eagerly._ _

__“Oh Will,” Hannibal whispers. “You’re so very strong, you know that?”_ _

__“I failed, though,” Will mutters hoarsely. “I bit the apple too hard.”_ _

__“I was not gentle with you,” the accented voice reminds him._ _

__“I still failed.”_ _

__“Shush,” Hannibal chides._ _

__Whining again, Will drops his head back onto his husband’s shoulder and wiggles in his lap petulantly. His body is flushed and sweat-damp and exhausted, but his cock still aches, precome dripping out of the slit and the head purple with the blood filling it. Hannibal purrs into Will’s neck, laving his tongue along the warm skin before closing his teeth around an earlobe momentarily. Finally he acquiesces and wraps one hand around the burgeoning head of Will’s length, thumb stroking along the slit and other arm resting securely around a trim waist._ _

__“Oh god,” Will groans. “Hannibal. Fuck, it feels so good.”_ _

__His hips roll steadily as he sits in his husband’s lap, pushing his ass into the hardness he can feel there, frustrated that they are still separated by a layer of cloth. He wants to sit on Hannibal’s thick cock, wants to split himself on the firm flesh and snap his hips in little thrusts as it buries itself deep into him. He reaches behind him and grips Hannibal’s hair in complaint as callused fingers continue to jerk him off steadily and slowly. He needs so much more._ _

__“ _Hannibal_ ,” he growls and rubs his oil-slick hole into Hannibal’s lap, staining the crotch of his husband’s pants uncaringly._ _

__There is an answering growl. The sound excites Will enough for another spurt of precome to dribble out of his cock as it is squeezed and stroked and fisted against his belly, long fingers scratching into the coarse hairs there almost painfully. Finally, though, Hannibal coaxes him into standing on his toes, and Will braces himself on the table for a second and looks over his shoulder to watch the older man undo his pants and draw his own cock out, angry red and leaking, thick and throbbing expectantly. Bypassing the slow and steady part, Will merely leans back and reaches around to guide the length inside of his hole, which gapes around the girth the more it sinks into him, until finally Will sits buried to the hilt in Hannibal’s lap once more._ _

__“Yes,” Will gasps out. “Fuck me. Please, oh god, fuck me.”_ _

__So Hannibal complies. He supports his smaller lover by grasping his hips while Will braces himself on the chair, toes touching the floor when he unseats himself before sinking back down to spear his hole on the impossibly huge length. Will fucks himself on his husband’s cock desperately, crying out at each roll of their hips together, using the chair as leverage until his balls smack loudly upon Hannibal’s own. They both pant their pleasure into each other’s skin, and Hannibal gives as good as he gets, powerful thighs tense as he thrusts up to meet each of Will’s movements, splitting the smaller man on his cock like he couldn’t on his fingers. When Will comes it is with a shout that echoes in the dining room, and his strength leaves him as his spend spurts out onto his belly and chest, some landing on the table and even the floor. He collapses onto Hannibal and sobs when the other man continues to pound into him, rough hands gripping suddenly under his knees to pull him up and spread his legs on either side of the chair’s arms while he seeks his own orgasm._ _

__Will tosses his head back and forth as his prostate is overstimulated, and tears track his cheeks as he is folded nearly in two upon his lover’s lap, fucked mercilessly and unable to do a thing about it. Hannibal comes with a cry that is muffled into his shoulder as he sucks open-mouthed kisses along the sweating flesh, and he holds Will down on his cock as ropes of cum paint the still spasming insides. They both pant harshly afterwards, Hannibal content to remain inside until he softens and Will too exhausted to move anyway._ _

__“Good boy,” Hannibal whispers into damp curls._ _

__He pulls his younger husband off of him, regretting the loss of warmth around his cock as he slips out of the abused hole. With gentle coaxing and quiet praise murmured into an ear, he manages to get Will’s feet onto the floor to stand with him, supporting most of the younger man’s weight while he takes the time to tuck himself back into his pants. And then, with hardly any complaint, he lifts Will bridal style and heads off towards their bedroom. He ignores the halved apple and the olive oil that slowly stains his jacket on the table._ _

__Turns out the punishment was for something mundane -a wet towel left one too many times on the floor outside of the bathroom. If Will is known to continue ‘forgetting’ about that in the immediate future, well, who is Hannibal to deny his precious husband the punishment he so craves?_ _


End file.
